


Seeking Harry Potter

by Pepperup



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blind Date, Complete, M/M, Pining, Pining Draco Malfoy, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepperup/pseuds/Pepperup
Summary: Harry comes across a personal ad in the paper. SEEKING; HARRY POTTER LOOK ALIKE FOR DISCREET HOOK UP.A Drarry one shot.





	Seeking Harry Potter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading. In case you get deja vu reading, this is xposted to wattpad.

Harry didn't usually pay attention to his name in the paper. It was there often enough that he'd become desensitized. This morning though, flipping idly through the prophet, Harry paused when he saw his it.

He'd never seen it in the personals before.

Harry read and then reread the little post crushed into the corner under **Men Seeking Men**.

**SEEKING:**  
**Harry Potter lookalike for discreet hook up.**  
**If interested, contact John Cuttle by owl.**

Harry's heart pounded as his eyes continually scanned the brief words.

Outrage flooded him... tinged with interest.

Was this a thing? Did people actually do this? Dress up as him and meet up around town for a shag?

Harry didn't know whether to be disgusted or flattered. Instead of choosing either, he read the ad again.

John Cuttle. He didn't know a John Cuttle. In fact, he doubted that was a real name. John, picked for obvious ambiguity while Cuttle--a name harry had never heard before--was probably used as a means for the owls to identify the man with.

His cheeks grew hot, as Harry read the words again and finally, he pushed the paper away, setting it on the dining room table next to his cold tea. But his name still glared up at him in bold dark letters; **Seeking Harry Potter.**

He had stopped reading the papers ages ago for this very reason. He hated seeing his name in print and even more so, the unflattering pictures that often went with it.

But this was different.

It made Harry uncomfortable in a way that he had never experienced before. It filled him with a grim curiosity and more than that, it intrigued him.

Harry wanted to know who wrote the ad.

Probably some lonely old man with a weird Harry Potter fetish. Lord knew he'd met enough people with an unnatural desire for him--no, not him--but for his name, the idea of him and what he'd done and what he represented to them. That was the very reason he would never go for anyone like that.

They had an image in mind, and call it selfish, but Harry didn't think he could handle having someone disappointed by the _real_ him. Especially if he turned out to like the person. Once was enough for an experience like that, thank you very much.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and took a sip of his tea, grimacing at the temperature. He thought absently about heating it up again but his eyes fell on the ad once more and with trembling fingers, Harry reached for the paper again, searching the words as though some hidden meaning was about to pop out at him from them.

He stood up suddenly, tea and every other plan he'd had for the day forgotten. He made it all the way to the owlery on Diagon Alley before starting to second guess himself.

The witch at the front always let him use the owls for free and he remembered that only when he saw her face brighten upon his entry.

He really should get a new owl. Enough time had passed... Harry's stomach squirmed at the idea of replacing Hedwig and he sighed and walked into the back.

The letter he wrote was brief and vague.

_What do you want with Harry Potter?_

In retrospect, it probably didn't even warrant a response, but Mr. Cuttle sent one back anyway.

_What part of "discreet hook up" do you not understand?_

The small tawny owl hooted for a treat from Harry's bedroom window and Harry fished one out for her.

It had only been an hour tops, so the other man must not be far, Harry realized. Chewing the skin on his thumb Harry wondered whether he should reply. The guy seemed like he had a wand up his ass considering, but then again, Harry _had_ sent a ridiculous question.

Maybe Mr. Cuttle thought Harry was wasting his time or maybe even a fan out to stop the other man from tarnishing his good name?

Harry snorted at the thought and considered his words carefully.

_People think I'm Harry Potter every day._

He sat on the edge of his bed, foot tapping, the whole time he waited for a response. He briefly wondered _why_ he was doing this? Why bother? And why was it making him so damn nervous? But then the answer came to him so swiftly he couldn't even deny it.

This man wanted a Harry Potter look alike. If Harry went... he would never know it was him.

He could do... well a lot of things he would never normally do. Hell, even _this_ was something he would never normally do. But if he was pretending to be someone else--pretending to be Harry Potter--then for once he could let loose and just do whatever came naturally.

Harry took a deep breath at the realization. He was careful and always aware of what people thought of him, what he represented to them. He held himself to such strict standards that only now was he realizing how stifled he felt.

The owl arrived in Harry's window, startling him from his thoughts. That was even quicker the second time around.

He stood up and took the parchment, fingers trembling, and unfolded the small paper.

_Are you interested?_

And now that everything was on the table, Harry didn't know. He pushed to his feet, pacing the room, paper clutched in his hand.

Only when the owl hopped toward the window edge did harry come to a decision.

"Wait!" he said. "One more!"

The owl hooted disapprovingly as Harry flipped the elegant handwritten note over to the blank side.

_What do you want to do, exactly?_

He wrote and then as an after thought added;

_W_ _ho are you?_ _What do you look like?_

The owl returned half an hour later with a floo address and another simple note that managed to address all of his questions without giving him any answers.

_You can decide if_ _you_ _like_ _what_ _I_ _have to offer in person tonight._

Harry stared at the note.

He stared until he had the floo address memorized along with every swoop and swirl of the man's long hand.

Only when the owl gave a disgruntled hoot as it swept from the room did Harry finally snap out of his trance.

He didn't think he could do it.

But then again, when would he ever have the opportunity to do something like this again?

And yes, he had never touched or been touched by a man in a sexual way but he didn't exactly dislike the idea so much as he'd heavily steered his thoughts in the opposite direction whenever they went there, if only because he didn't want to deal with the drama if he _did_ happen to like it...

That thought made Harry pause.

So what was this then? Was this Harry admitting he liked men? Because one little ad in the paper shouldn't be enough to make you question your sexuality to that extent.

No, this was a lot more than that.

Harry had spent the last year holed up in grimauld place whenever he wasn't in training.

He didn't get out much anymore. He didn't do much of _anything_ anymore. A lot of days it felt like he was just going through the motions, doing what was expected of him, just as he'd always done.

Sometimes for brief moments, he wondered if any of this was what he really wanted.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was considering doing something for himself, something that had nothing to do with what other people expected of him.

Because no one would know it was him, he was filled with an immediate sense of freedom. This was an opportunity to see what he wanted without any repercussions.

He didn't know if he actually _wanted_ a hook up but he was stronger than any other wizard he was about to run into. He could defend himself if he needed to, and he sure as hell could leave whenever he felt like it. Everything was in his hands.

Confidence flooded him, easing his nerves.

The note didn't say what time to arrive, so Harry ambled about and even managed to get a few things done that he'd been planning to. Some of the paper work he was supposed to figure out as part of his training managed to distract him just long enough to calm him down slightly. As soon as Harry realized another two hours had passed, the tension returned to him.

Unable to wait any longer, Harry went to the washroom.

The mirror needed to be cleaned. It was in rough shape, cracked and streaked and dusty. Harry looked no better.

His hair, as usual, was a disgrace. His lips were chapped from nervously biting them all day and he had a bruise across one cheek from a well-aimed spell that Harry hadn't managed to duck in time.

He could have healed it, he supposed but with the number of cuts and bruises attained through training, Harry would rather live with the minor injuries than live in the infirmary.

Still, he went into the cupboard, pulled out some bruise cream and smeared it on.

His attempt at taming his hair went not as well and Harry let out a frustrated sigh, wondering why he ever bothered.

Well, it would be stupid to try to change his looks too much anyway, considering that he was trying to look like himself.

With that logic in mind, Harry decided not to change. Loose jeans, a black t-shirt and over sized jumper, it was pretty much his whole wardrobe anyway.

But then harry looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

It was too obviously him.

With a frown, Harry pulled out his wand.

Unsure where to start, he stared at his unimpressive reflection. Little touches, he finally decided, would be best.

If he altered enough small things, it would disrupt the image, leave him looking different in a way that was hard to place and with glamours so small they would be hard to detect.

He decided the hair would be easiest. He lightened it just a fraction, surprised by how the dark brown softened his features immediately.

Intrigued, Harry decided his nose should be next. Torn between making it bigger and smaller, he tried both. Harry shuddered at the button nose he'd given himself and quickly changed it back to normal, reminding himself that being subtle was key. He extended his nose ever so slightly and then lifted the bridge just as much before standing back to look at his handy work.

It wasn't bad. It gave harry an edge that looked almost dangerous. He liked it in a way but it wasn't enough.

No way would he fool anyone into thinking he was someone else the way he looked right now.

It was the eyes, Harry realized. The vibrant green was unmistakable.

He tried blue first but it just wasn't different enough.

Dark brown to match the hair was Harry's next try but his glamour wasn't quite strong enough to cover the brightness of his eyes and some of the color shone through, turning them an interesting hazel.

Harry blinked at himself.

He didn't look like _him_ anymore. In fact, if he'd started with the eyes Harry bet that would have pretty much done the trick from the start.

As an after thought, he hid his scar and then pulled his glasses from his face and transfigured them. If someone wanted to look like Harry Potter, they definitely would have the round glasses, but Harry highly doubted that they'd go to the effort of getting the exact same pair. He thickened the frames and changed the color to a dark brown before placing them back on his face.

Then, before he could second guess himself any more than he already had, Harry went to the fireplace and threw the floo powder into it. 

He stepped into the flaring green flames.

Harry could feel the floo settle, the pulling sensation cease and the flare of the jade flames slowly lowering around him. He was left standing in a fireplace as the receding flames simultaneously exposed Harry and the room he'd arrived in.

It was a grandly decorated sitting room with ornate tapestries hung from the wall depicting scenery of the wilds that reminded Harry instantly of the forbidden forest. The floors were shining dark wood and the furniture looked older than Harry.

But all of that was observed in a vague way from Harry's peripherals because his eyes landed on the man sitting stiffly in the large armchair directly before him.

First, Harry saw the hair, and then the cold grey eyes, and then the dark robes and perfect posture.

As the last of the flames died down, Harry was left staring at Draco Malfoy, who in return watched Harry with wide eyed surprise.

Suddenly, Harry realized that the fire was on and with a small gasp, he jumped from the fire place, looking at his shoes to see if they were burned. His jeans were singed at the ankles and smoke rose from them.

Harry coughed, heart pounding, and finally glanced back up at Malfoy, shock still shaking him. The blond had pushed to his feet, a guarded expression on his face.

He hadn't considered that he would know the wizard on the other side. And Malfoy of all people...

This must be a trap, Harry thought. No way would Draco Malfoy put an ad like that up. Unless it was for something else; to make fun of Harry, to hurt him, to humiliate him.

Harry spun on his heel.

"Wait."

Malfoy's voice shocked Harry still. It was borderline panicked and Harry couldn't help standing there, heart racing while Malfoy approached him.

He came to a stop behind Harry and Harry could feel his breath on the back of his neck, skating across his skin before he came around to Harry's side. He watched Harry closely, eyes raking his features until Harry finally found it in himself to catch the blond's gaze.

Malfoy swallowed and looked down, a surprisingly self-deprecating gesture.

"I didn't expect you to look so much like him," he said quietly and then cleared his throat. "Please," he said. "Stay for a little bit, at least."

Harry watched Malfoy, mind reeling with confusion.

Finally, curiosity won over self-preservation and he nodded.

Relief flooded Malfoy's expression and with a small smile, he led Harry into the apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat in one of the armchairs while Malfoy took the one across from him.

"Tea?" Malfoy asked and without waiting for a response, he waved his wand and tea and short bread cookies appeared on the small table between them.

Harry reached for his, grateful for the excuse to busy his hands.

"I take it you've never done something like this before?" Malfoy asked, accurately reading Harry's awkwardness.

"Er..." At the last second, Harry pitched his voice a little lower. "I didn't expect to see someone I know--er--recognize."

He took a sip of his tea, cheeks heating. He wouldn't last five minutes like this. Why hadn't Harry learned yet; he was _not_ a good liar.

Malfoy smiled at him, amusement with absolutely zero percent sneer or judgment and that made Harry's hands shake even more. What the bloody hell was happening?!

Harry set the tea down before he burned himself spilling it, and looked at Malfoy.

"I'm surprised you didn't," he waved vaguely at Malfoy's face and Malfoy shrugged, getting Harry's meaning at once.

"I don't know if the general public could think worse of me at this point, anyway," Malfoy said casually. "I didn't see the point of glamours or transfiguration."

Harry nodded, seeing Malfoy's reasoning, but still, it was very gutsy.

"How Gryffindor of you," Harry muttered.

Malfoy smirked. And then frowned, eyes dragging across Harry's face even more intently.

"You look about the same age as me," he said. "How come I don't know you? Which house were you in?"

Harry felt the blood leave his face.

_Shit!_

"I didn't go to Hogwarts," he said and picked up the tea again, taking a long sip to buy him some time to think of something. "We lived abroad for my dad's work. I went to Durmstrang."

Malfoy nodded thoughtfully and for a split second Harry was sure Malfoy was going to surprise him again by speaking to him in Bulgarian but the other wizard just took a sip of his tea and nodded, thoughtfully.

"What's your name?" he suddenly asked.

"Harry Potter," Harry said without thinking.

Malfoy raised a brow.

"You're committed to your role," he said.

Harry blushed.

"Er, you said it would be discreet."

Malfoy nodded and looked away.

"It suits me anyway," he admitted.

The situation was weird to say the very least. Never would Harry have thought that Malfoy would want him for anything other than a punching bag. But seeing him like this, open and off guard because, Harry assumed, he thought the real Harry wasn't there...

Was his behaviour with Harry all their years at Hogwarts only a front? But no, that wasn't possible. Malfoy had hated him even more than Harry had hated him back.

"Why?" Harry asked, drawing Malfoy's gaze to him. "Why Harry Potter?"

A small smile touched Malfoy's lips, bitterness in every angle.

"I just thought I should try to get this out of my system," he said and the bitter smile grew. "This _thing_ with Potter, well... it's not doing me any favours."

"Thing?" Harry repeated and then in a small, uncertain voice said, "crush?"

"Crush," Malfoy shrugged. "Obsession... love..."

Malfoy looked away, bitterness vanishing and leaving the blond looking small and lost, sitting across from Harry.

"I don't know what it is," he said. "And since there's no way of _really_ finding out, I thought, one time, I could take this and then maybe I can move on."

Harry's heart skidded into his chest. Somewhere around the word love, he'd lost all ability to speak or breathe so he just sat still and watched Malfoy closely, feeling like he had never seen him at all before today.

"So," Malfoy said, after a moment. He leaned across the arm of his chair, placing a pointed chin in his hand and arching a gaze at Harry.

" _Do_ you like what I wave to offer?"

The reference to the post he'd sent earlier made Harry flush red because in his house, detached from the situation, Harry had known _exactly_ what those words alluded to. Now and here in front of Draco Malfoy, images rushed to the forefront of his mind. Brief thoughts that he'd fleetingly had today suddenly became real images; himself and Malfoy entwined, pale skin flushed and hair a disheveled mess that Harry could run his fingers into. Lips hot and swollen on each other's skin--

"My ego can't handle much more silence," Malfoy said, looking amused if a little guarded again. "Do you want me, or not?"

Uncertainty entered his tone and Harry wanted at once to reassure him because, well, if he wanted to know if he could fancy men, Draco Malfoy was probably as far as Harry had ever had to look.

"It's not that," he said. "It's just, I've never--"

Words left him and Harry shrugged awkwardly.

"Never had an anonymous hookup?" Malfoy said with a shrug. "That's fine. We'll keep it quiet."

Harry shook his head.

"No," he said, feeling his blush creep all the way over his ears and down his chest. "No I've never--"

He gestured to Malfoy as though that was supposed to explain everything and immediately felt like even more of an idiot. Of course he'd never got it on with Draco Malfoy. He wanted to roll his eyes at himself.

But Malfoy, clearly was a genius at interpretation and his mouth opened in a silent 'oh' at Harry's floundering.

"With a man," he supplied and Harry nodded, helplessly.

He reached for the cup of tea again to hide behind, but before it came anywhere near his lips, Malfoy was there, gently pulling the cup from Harry's fingers. Feeling completely exposed, Harry could do nothing but watch as Malfoy set the cup down, eyes boring into Harry's as he leaned over Harry's chair, a hand on each arm, only inches separating them.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy asked.

Harry swallowed.

"I was curious," Harry said, propelled by Malfoy's honesty. "About myself first, but now I'm just curious about you."

Malfoy swallowed and then his hands moved from the arms of the chair to Harry's shoulders.

He pushed him back until Harry's back was pressed flat into the cushion and then he climbed onto the seat, straddling Harry.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Malfoy touched their foreheads together with a playful smile.

"I can't believe you even got the glasses," he said with a chuckle and sat back on Harry's knees before pulling them off of Harry's face.

"I need those to see," Harry said, squinting up at Malfoy. The blond was just close enough that Harry could see him trying his glasses on.

"Merlin, you're blind," he said with a chuckle.

"Just about."

He leaned forward and Harry thought he was placing his glasses back on his face, but instead of the warmed metal touching his nose, lips touched his.

For a stunned moment, Harry stayed perfectly still and then his body took over. Hands first, slid along Malfoy's thighs, fingertips sliding against the soft fabric of his robes, then his head tilted just enough that their lips fit together, soft and gentle and warm and nothing like Harry thought it would be.

Malfoy let out a small, desperate noise and leaned in deeper, glasses cutting into Harry's cheek as he realized that Malfoy was still wearing them.

It sent such a thrill through him suddenly that Malfoy wanted him so much, enough to place an ad just to get a taste of it. Enough to wear Harry's glasses and dig his fingers into Harry's hair and tug him in closer.

All this time. All this time and Harry had never known, never noticed or looked deeper than what Malfoy showed on the surface. And now with one soft kiss, Harry could feel Malfoy's fingers trembling and his heart pounding against Harry's chest and it all made a kind of twisted sense.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Harry breathed against his lips. "You and me..."

Malfoy pulled back enough to look at him. He pulled the glasses off of his face and placed them carefully back on Harry's.

Malfoy came into clear view, straddling Harry's lap, lips and cheeks tinted pink and Harry realized that he was possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.

"Damn, you're good," Malfoy breathed.

Harry leaned forward but Malfoy pulled back.

"Not here," he said in a low voice.

He climbed off of Harry's lap and offered a hand.

Harry took it.

 

 

Malfoy's bedroom was just as lavish as the rest of his flat but Harry could barely take any of it in.

He stood awkwardly, aware of the obvious erection showing through the front of his trousers, Malfoy shutting the door behind him, and the bed. It was large, big enough for any number of acrobatics that a person could think of and the sight of it was making his body tingle with nerves and excitement, but mostly nerves.

Malfoy turned to look at him, gaze dragging down Harry's body and not missing the bulge in his pants, judging by the way his gaze lingered there.

He stepped up to Harry breathlessly and tugged him into his arms and for a moment just stood there, breathing Harry in.

Harry didn't think he could take much more of this. He hadn't expected so much tenderness, so much warmth in every touch.

"You're so much like him," Draco said. "When you first showed up in the floo, I actually thought it was him for a second. Nearly had a heart attack."

Harry shut his eyes, guilt sweeping him.

"I am him," he said quietly.

Malfoy stilled for a moment and then let out a soft breath.

"Yes," he breathed. "For tonight, since you don't seem to mind, I'm just going to go with that."

His lips pressed to Harry's neck and he shut his eyes, relishing the sensation. Half of him wanted to shove Malfoy off and tell him the truth before this went any further and the other half of him wanted to push Malfoy to his knees and see what else his mouth could do.

He ended up somewhere in between when his hands fisted into the fabric of Malfoys clothes, holding him exactly where he was. Not stopping him, but not letting him go any further.

Malfoy chuckled.

"Harry, calm down," he said. "I wont do anything you don't want."

The sound of his given name on Malfoy's lips made Harry shiver and Malfoy took the opportunity to pull Harry toward the bed and push him down into it.

Harry fell against the soft mattress without struggle and Malfoy didn't hesitate to climb on top of him.

He pulled at Harry's jumper until it came off, taking his tshirt with it.

Malfoy looked down at him, let out a shaky breath and then went for Harry's trousers with renewed vigor.

They came off easy enough, leaving Harry exposed under the other wizard, trembling under his gaze.

"You too," he whispered, pulling at Malfoy's robes.

Malfoy complied and a moment later he was naked on Harry, warm thighs straddling his own and soft hands tracing the muscles in Harry's abdomen until his whole body was twitching with want.

Harry reached up, his hand's ran up Malfoy's back and he had just long enough to marvel at the softness of his skin before Malfoy was dipping low, pressing hot kisses on Harry's collar bone, then his chest.

He licked Harry's nipple, making him shiver and then bit the other one until Harry was arching off the bed, dick straining for contact. The length rubbed against Malfoy's stomach, scraping against his erection on the way and Malfoy shuddered.

"Not yet," he groaned and then pushed himself down further, continuing his aggravatingly thorough exploration of Harry's body with his tongue.

By the time he reached Harry's cock, Harry was straining and moaning for the contact. He could feel the precum leaking from his tip in an embarrassing display but Malfoy moaned when he reached it, a heavy, hungry sound and licked the liquid up before he touched anything else.

Harry's head fell back into the pillows. A ragged gasp tore from his lips.

"Does it feel good?" Draco asked in a heavy voice.

And he had the base of Harry's dick held firmly in his hand so the least Harry could do was call him by his first name.

"Yes, Draco," he said.

Draco, who's lips were grazing Harry's tip, suddenly stopped.

It took Harry a moment to realize it and when he did, he lifted his head to see Draco watching him with an almost stern look.

"Harry wouldn't call me that," he said. "He'd never call me anything other than Malfoy... or a slimy git."

Harry almost laughed.

"So I'm breaking the illusion?" he asked incredulously. "Do I need to point out that you're sucking my cock?"

Draco just raised a brow and didn't move.

"Alright," Harry said frustrated. "I'll call you whatever you want as long as you get back to it, you slimy git."

He felt ridiculous saying it but Draco grinned and dipped his head down low, sucking Harry's tip in between his lips.

Harry's eyes nearly rolled back but the sight was so lovely that he couldn't look away.

"Fuck," he moaned as Draco did something with his tongue that Harry was pretty sure was wandless magic. "You're so good at this."

His hand dropped down, twining into Draco's hair and it was just as soft as Harry thought it would be. Unable to help himself, he ruffled it and Draco shot him a look.

"I happen to be good at all things," he said, licking Harry's length.

"Mm," Harry said in agreement. He hated to admit it, but it was the truth. Harry couldn't think of one thing that Draco hadn't excelled at. "Except getting one up on me."

Draco's eyes widened and lips tightened on Harry's cock, sucking him harder and with a sudden fervor that had Harry’s eyes falling shut again, head falling back with a groan.

"Fuck, Malfoy." It felt so fucking good; his lips his tongue swiping his tip and swallowing him down almost violently, Draco's moans vibrating his length and then his hands joined the pumping and it was all Harry could take.

He came with a groan, entire body shaking and arching into Draco's willing mouth. His thighs spread wider, as Draco swallowed his every shuddering spurt of liquid and as the very last of it came, Harry looked down at Draco and their eyes met.

Draco was off of Harry so fast that Harry didn't even realize what was happening until he was half way back into his robes.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, uneasily.

"Lose the glamours," Draco said in a shaking voice.

Still half in the air from his orgasm, Harry didn't follow.

"What?"

"The glamours!" Draco snapped, spinning around to face him, robes back in place.

Harry laid there, spread out naked in Draco's bed and slowly came back down to reality, the sinking feeling went all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

"How--"

Draco cursed.

"Merlin Potter, you should know those don't work if you're not in complete control of your emotions, like say, mid orgasm."

Harry stared at Draco.

"I saw your eyes!" Draco shouted. "I saw them. Just do me the favour of not treating me like the complete idiot you think I am and just remove them. How many did you use?"

Trembling, Harry sat up.

He looked up at Draco, at a loss. Confused by the anger and not knowing what to say or do, he just followed Draco's command and with a wandless wave of his hand, removed first the nose, then the hair and then the eyes. He needed his wand to transfigure the glasses back but that didn't seem to be needed because Draco was making choking noises and backing toward the far wall like Harry had revealed himself to be some kind of monster.

"You--you lied to me," Draco choked.

Harry frowned, defensiveness rising in him with every word.

"I tried to tell you--when I saw it was you, I tried to leave--"

"You let me say all of that..."

Draco went ghostly pale.

"Draco, it's okay, I--"

"Don't call me that!"

Harry fell silent, staring at Draco. The shock and fear visible across Draco's face and everything that had confused Harry since walking into this mess, suddenly clicked into place. He understood it all now and he probably regretted coming here more than Malfoy did placing that ad.

Harry looked for his pants. He could feel Malfoy watching him while he tugged them back on and then his jeans and shirt and then his jumper.

He only paused when he was passing Malfoy on his way to the door, feeling deflated and once again, completely defeated by his own name. He didn't look at Malfoy when he spoke. He couldn't.

"I guess you got your answer," he said, "about what _this_ is."

He went to move past Malfoy but paused again, biting his lip.

"Sorry for ruining the fantasy."

Malfoy made a strange, strangled noise behind him but Harry didn't stop. He kept going until he was all the way back at grimauld place, under the covers in bed, still fully clothed with his heart feeling like a lump of lead.

 

 

Malfoy showed up on Harry's doorstep two days later.

People didn't often come knocking on his door in the muggle way. Everyone he knew showed up by flu or at least sent owls. Harry was understandably shocked by the knock on his door and even more so by the person standing on it.

The door was barely open when their eyes met and Harry hurriedly shut it. 

"Wait!"

The door slammed on Malfoy's hand and Harry winced at the sight of the long fingers currently in his house.

Those fingers gripped Harry's door and carefully pulled it open enough to expose Malfoy in his nicest robes, taking up all of the space of his doorway as he met Harry's gaze.

"Please," he said lowly. "Can I come in?"

Harry looked at the other wizard, old schoolmate, former rival and now ex-lover. His face was pinched with worry, eyes boring straight into Harry, searching for something there.

Harry couldn't find words, so instead he just shook his head.

Malfoy's face fell.

Harry tried to pull the door closed but Malfoy didn't budge.

Finally finding his voice, Harry forced himself to speak.

"I'm busy," Harry lied. He had to look away to say it. "I don't have have time for this."

He yanked on the door again and managed to pull it closed another inch and then sighed heavily.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

"To come in," Malfoy said.

Harry looked down, shaking his head again.

"No," he said firmly.

"I just want to talk," Malfoy said, voice verging on begging. Again, it was so different from the way that Harry knew Malfoy to be. It reminded him of Molfoy's apartment, of laying flat on his back with Malfoy on top of him and every word that had been said on the way there.

Malfoy watched him, grimacing. 

"Fine," Malfoy breathed after a moment. Despite himself, Harry's heart sank with disappointment at how readily Malfoy was willing to give up. "I'll just talk right here."

Harry's breath caught and he looked at Malfoy, sharply.

"I don't want to hear it, Malfoy, ok?" he snarled. "Just forget everything. Forget I showed up. Forget me, altogether."

Ready to give up on closing the door, Harry almost turned to storm away. He could hide in his bedroom until Malfoy took the hint and left. But before he could do just that, Malfoy took a deep breath.

"You're mad," he said simply.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

"Very observant of you," he said.

"I was caught off guard," Malfoy said. "Before. I felt outed and exposed and like all of my secrets were on display."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You were okay telling it to a random wizard," he said. "Why not me?"

Malfoy frowned. Finally, he looked away, grey eyes moved from searching Harry's face to searching somewhere far away instead. 

"I didn't ever want you to know," he admitted quietly. "I was upset that you found out."

"Why?" Harry demanded and he could admit that he sounded hurt, even to his own ears. Malfoy looked at him and Harry couldn't meet his gaze. "Because I took it so badly?"

Malfoy ignored Harry's sarcasm.

He leaned forward, tipped his head so that it rested against the door frame while he watched Harry, only a few short inches separating them.

Harry could smell the soft undertone of Malfoy's cologne, see the flecks of colour in his eyes and it was getting harder to remember why he didn't want to see him again.

"I had it in my head that I would do that one thing and then move on. Planned for it. Spent an insurmountable amount of time coming to terms with that." He reached out then, like he was going to take hold of Harry, grab him by the shoulder or the arm but at the last minute his hand faltered and he brushed the back of Harry's hand gently instead.

Harry watched the exchange. He watched the pale skin brush gently over his own, a whisper of a touch and had to suppress a shiver. When he looked up, Malfoy was still looking at his hand.

After a moment, his gaze turned up to Harry's eyes again and he looked young and lost.

"I _wante_ d to leave Harry Potter behind. I was prepared to finally cut you out of my life, and then you walked straight into it."

His voice had lowered. It was a wash of gentle, uneasy, tones that were somehow making sense as far as explanations went. Harry wanted to argue. He wanted to fight it.

"You got what you wanted," he said.

Malfoy did grab his arms this time, both of them and pressed forward, no mind of the invisible barrier that Harry had tried to implement between them.

" _You're_ what I want," he said earnestly. "You're all I've wanted for a long time."

Harry swallowed.

"How long?" he asked. His voice was shaking and it was obvious but Harry could barely breathe, let alone control his vocal chords right now.

"A long time," Malfoy repeated and his voice sounded just as raw.

Harry had to look away. Half of him still wanted to run and hide under his blankets, just as he had two days ago, the other half of him wanted to cling onto Malfoy's hands and believe everything he'd said that day. The way he'd spoken about Harry, the way he acted and smiled and joked... Harry had liked every part of it and that was before the bedroom had even been involved.

"When the panic subsided," Malfoy said in a low voice, his fingers flexing absently against Harry's biceps. "I realized that I had been so hell-bent on getting over you, I sabotaged my chances of actually being with you."

As always, curiosity won over self preservation and Harry looked up to meet Malfoy's eyes.

The blond was watching him openly, brow furrowed but eyes wide, watching him unflinchingly.

Harry's voice came out higher than he intended when he finally spoke.

"You actually want to-- _be_ with me?"

Malfoy's frown deepened.

"A shag was never all I wanted," he said. "Thinking about it now, there's no way that would ever have been enough."

Harry flushed and looked away, some of Malfoy's fear suddenly making sense. He wanted Harry, not for sex, but something bigger, something that would be substantially more difficult.

And he was here now, talking to _Harry_ this time, telling him everything that he had been afraid to say before.

And this time Malfoy's words came with a hell of a lot more. He was spilling his guts for a reason and that was to push everything into Harry's court. To leave it all up to him.

Which seems slightly unfair, considering. Malfoy had had years to figure out what he wanted and here he was, giving Harry seconds to do the same. Putting it all on the table, offering himself like a platter for Harry to take completely... if that was what he wanted.

There was a pink flush to his cheeks and a tense line to his shoulders but other than that, Malfoy held himself high, like he could handle any response.

"Well?" he finally asked, when Harry didn't speak.

"It's a lot to ask," Harry said. "Isn't it?"

For one brief moment, the hurt of a fear realized was obvious in Malfoy's eyes and then just as fast, he was leaving.

Harry's arm shot out faster than he could think to move and his hand gripped a forearm, warm and sinewy even through layers of clothes.

"I didn't say no," Harry said and Malfoy looked at him sharply.

Harry swallowed.

He knew he _should_ say no. 

When people wanted someone for a long time, they had expectations. Fear was flowing into Harry already because he'd already done this once before, hadn't he? Ginny had thought things would be a certain way and he'd had his own ideas too. Reality wasn't what you wanted it to be, it just _was_. And Harry couldn't be anything anyone wanted him to be, _he_ just was.

Malfoy was watching him, eyes glued to his face and Harry hadn't let him go yet and wasn't planning to. He could feel his fingers digging into flesh and didn't seem able to ease the grip. He just wanted the other man to stay long enough for him to make up his mind, at the very least.

Suddenly, Malfoy's expression softened. He turned to face Harry fully, shifting so that his arm was between them, Harry still clutching it like a life line.

He liked what he'd seen of Malfoy, and he liked the possibilities, but somehow he still couldn't move, couldn't say yes to something so big, something that most likely, would only prove him to be a disappointment once again.

"Harry," Malfoy said gently and in that one word it was as if he knew, as if every fear Harry had, was spelled across his face.

Malfoy's expression was open, a sudden playfulness in his eyes, visible and surprising.

"Let me stay for a little while," he said. "At least."

Harry flushed at the familiar words.

His grip slipped on Malfoy's arm and Malfoy let it, sliding his hand all the way into Harry's to replace it.

Harry's heart hammered into his ribs and he glanced down at their entwined fingers before numbly moving out of the way for Malfoy to enter.

Malfoy's smile was bordering on shy as he entered. He had been surprising Harry ever since his eyes landed on that ad in the paper and Harry suddenly realized that half of his fear, at least, was because he had no idea what to expect. But he supposed that not knowing was a good thing. Hadn't all of this started because Harry was ready to do something new? Something for himself? Something that he truly wanted?

"Tea?" he asked.

 

END


End file.
